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COPYRIGHT DEPOSn^ 




OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 

A Scotch, Dutch, Irish Yankee, Born in Pennsylvania 
January 7, 1859 



POEMS, SONGS 
AND YARNS 



BY 

OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 



>s 



1913 
ROCK ISLAND, ILLINOIS 



T5 3^^^ 



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Copyrighted, 1913 

BY 

OLEN WIN FIELD LOOKER 



//.H^ 






DEDICATION 

I dedicate this book to anyone who will pay a penny a 
page for it. Trusting largely to my wife's relation, for 
my personal safety, should we ever meet, my own misgiv- 
ings remind me of the Irishman who was shipwrecked 
and felt the time had come when he must pray. *'0h 
Lord, ' ' he said, ' ' if you will help me out this time I will 
never call on you again. " I am trying to live so that I 
can respect my own company when alone, pondering over 
what Billings said, that ''the mule was a verry patient 
animul — patient because he is ashaimed of himself, ' ' as- 
suring myself that I will get justice, as the lawyer told 
his client who appeared much distressed. ''Begorry," 
said Pat, ''that is just what I am afraid of." Feeling 
that we understand each other better than I understand 
myself, I beg to remain your friend and coworker between 
the handles of the wheelbarrow. 

Oden Winfield Looker. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedication 5 

Introduction 9 

Not My Home 14 

Misplaced Confidence May Be Bliss 17 

Will Not Blame Self too Harshly 18 

Johnnie Punkin and His Cat 18 

Bewitching Eyes 20 

Have Pure Thoughts 20 

Eosy Shannon 21 

All Trouble Imaginary 24 

Hope and Health 24 

Bound as Habit 's Slave 25 

Heaven Here Below 27 

Poor Lewis ' Hat 28 

Old Man 29 

Bible 30 

The Letter Ended 30 

Jug of Eum 31 

Forgive 34 

Smokin ' in Bed 35 

Not City Bred 37 

Little Mildred Allen 38 

Proud But Not Vain 39 

Dorothy Dick 40 

Love 's Storm 41 

Someone to Love and Someone to Love Me 42 

The Gunner, Uncle Billie Spires 44 

The Conclusion 45 

The Milkmaid's Charms; or, The Bashful Boy 46 

7 



8 CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Ye Stubborn Glen 48 

Pure-Minded Friend 51 

So Little Done 51 

Trego Lang 52 

No Invention to Save the Kich 56 

Hope and Love 57 

Chinese Proverbs 58 

Tune Casey Jones 59 

Canary and His Hogs 61 

Love and Hope 63 

Eespect Yourself 64 

Hope and Love 67 

The Gasoline Stove for the Kansas Homesteader in 1880 ... 69 

My Irish Rose 71 

Wit Sharpened with Use 74 

As I Heard Sam Jones at Moline, Illinois 76 

As I Heard Ingersoll 77 

Panama Canal in Three Eoots 79 

Matilda Fletcher 81 

Ye Plumber 82 

Improve 83 

As I Eemember Dr. Harvey W. Wiley 85 

O. W. Looker, M. D 88 

A Fairy Tale of a Little Black Nose 91 

Myself 95 

Chicago 's Live Model of Art 97 

I Adore Thee, Blessed Sleep 98 

Harsh Words 98 

The Yankee Peddler 's Grandson 99 

Dread to Have Mother Know 100 



INTRODUCTION 

SPEAKERS AND SINGERS I HAVE HEARD 

I never had lived in a large city till I went 
to Los Angeles. There I could go to the Temple 
auditorium on a Sunday and hear Burdette 
preach. He wrote ^'The Religious Brakeman,'' 
^^The Rise and Fall of the Mustache/' ^^The 
Necktie Period, '^ etc. I heard him lecture on 
^^The Lost Fort/' which was wonderfully beau- 
tiful and sublime. 

I heard Mclntyre at the Methodist Church lec- 
ture on the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. His 
use of language was beautiful. He said when the 
torches were put out the darkness in the cave was 
different from a dark night — it seemed to be 
thick, as if you might cut it with a knife, as 
though you could reach out and take a handful 
of it and smear it over your face like soot. I 
said, **How can we who blunder so ever hope to 
attain such beautiful use of language T' 

I went to hear Tetrazzini sing. No bird ever 
warbled purer, sweeter, higher notes or tones, as 
it seemed to me. She surely has the heavenly 



10 INTRODUCTION 

spark as she calls it. I heard the wonderful Har- 
riet Beech Yaw, who thrilled her hearers beyond 
my power to describe. 

And Bonsi, the Italian tenor. I also heard 
McCormack, the Irish tenor. Their quality of 
voice seemed to me to be much the same. Great 
volume and power and then it would die away 
till it seemed you could hear it in the distance 
and even echo as you have heard echoes in the 
hills, showing wonderful training and control, till 
you were led to ask yourself, **Is man an angel T' 
The papers announced that Harry Lauder was to 
be at the temple auditorium for two weeks. He 
had held his high standard in the old country for 
five years as the greatest Scotch comedian and 
singer on the vaudeville stage, and it seemed 
Scotch people thought him as great as Bobbie 
Burns. He made his own songs and sang them. 
His houses were packed. I got in the last night 
and had to stand during his entertainment. Six 
stories above the stage I heard him in his Scotch 
dialect sing **I Love a Lassie, '^ ^*We Parted on 
the Shore,'' *^ She's My Daisy," etc. The rhythm, 
the enunciation, the personal magnetism, the con- 
centration of thought, to make others see as you 
see and feel as you feel, to satisfy the eye, to 
produce sounds that fall gracefully, and with 



INTRODUCTION 11 



music on the ear, till you almost see the heavenly 
spark and say with Harry Lauder, *^I'd give all 
the money I have in the bank, and that ain't 
very much.'' The papers told us he had been a 
coal miner. I worked in and around coal mines 
when a boy and heard the Scotch people talk. 
I got some of Harry Lauder's songs and it seemed 
to come natural for me to sing them. When you 
meet me, make the request, if you like, and I 
will sing *^I Love a Lassie" as near like Harry 
Laudter as I can. From a boy music and poetry 
have charmed me and to be a good talker I con- 
sider one of the best and greatest accomplish- 
ments of man. It is to my mind the divine plan 
for man to improve, to convey to his hearers the 
very best in his mind and heart, and the ability 
of some to make themselves heard in a large 
crowd is marvelous. I heard W. J. Bryan ad- 
dress a crowd of acres of people in an open field 
near Rock Island, and we could all hear as well 
as if in a small building, while the man that 
introduced him seemed to yell with all his might, 
yet we heard nothing. It was as if Bryan had 
wireless communication with every mind present, 
could send the message out clear and distinct ; the 
more the receiving instrument is in sympathy 
or accord with the sender, the better heard. Father 



12 INTRODUCTION 

Matthews, the great temperance apostle, when 
asked how he got so many as twenty thousand 
Irishmen to sign the pledge in one day, said, 
*^The heart has many strings, if you know how 
to touch them aright they are sure to respond.'' 
John B. Goff, who made more public lectures 
than any other man of his time (except Wendell 
Phillips), said of himself, he never faced an 
audience but he would rather turn and run 
the other way, but when he got started, there was 
a thrilling sensation of delight, then his only 
object was to make his audience see as he saw, 
and feel as he felt. Let us go and see and hear 
each great or near great man or woman on their 
favorite theme or song. We can get as much 
from them in one hour as we would get from 
books in six months ' reading. When a boy I might 
have heard Henry Ward Beecher, Horace Greeley, 
John B. Goff, Daniel Webster, called the Lion 
Man, Stephen A. Douglas, called the ** Little 
Giant of Chicago," Abraham Lincoln, called the 
^^Tall Sycamore of the West,'' Wendell Phillips, 
called ''The Silver Tongued Orator," and I 
think over the opportunity that I have had by 
living in the time when these great minds were 
active. Singers like Jenny Lind, violinists like 
Ole Bull, singers like Frank Lombard, of Chi- 



INTRODUCTION 13 



cago, carry you beyond yourself in the realm of 
harmony, of thought, of Heaven itself. Intellect 
and the power of speech to convey thought is so 
highly prized that we seem to forget all else in 
the presence of it. Is it not the God in man, or 
as Tetrazzini calls it, ^^the heavenly spark T* 
See and hear these great speakers and singers 
as they come around and let them fan this Hea- 
venly spark in us till it glows into a blaze and 
warms our whole intellectual and spiritual being 
till when we say, ^'Our Father Who Art in 
Heaven, '' we feel His presence and are thrilled 
and strengthened. 

Olen Winfield Looker. 



14 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



NOT MY HOME 

IVe wandered o'er the hills, today, 

That used to give me joy, 
Wliere almost forty years ago 

I wandered when a boy. 

Many of the old trees are gone 

And younger ones have came, 
I wandered on and found the one 

Where I had carved my name. 

Below my own I carved the name 

Of Mary, by my side. 
Who blushed when for pay I claimed a kiss 

That others were denied. 

The river is flowing on the same. 

The banks are just as green; 
My thoughts go back some forty years 

And now I seem to dream. 

'Tis winter, and we children three 

Are huddled round the stove. 
The north winds pierce our little house. 

But warm is mother's love. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 15 

My sister older asks her why 

Our father went to war; 
**For duty, honor, and God's cause. 

His death, my child, we bear/' 

Each night at mother's knee we knelt. 
Our childish prayer we prayed. 

She told us how that Jesus said 
'' 'Tis I, be not afraid." 

At last the long cold winter went. 

The robins told of spring, 
We boys roamed out upon the hills 

Where today I've been. 

The joy of one long summer day 

Made us ashamed to own 
That ever we had grumbled once 

When winter storms had blown. 

An awkward, bashful boy I grew. 

But trying to improve; 
The schoolhouse where I tried to spell, 

I also learned to love. 

Too bashful then to claim my own, 

I wandered far away, 
Not knowing time would pale the cheek 

And turn the hair to gray. 



16 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

I^m going far away from here, 

For this is not my home, 
For age or death have claimed the ones 

I hoped would be my own. 

To see my old time friends of yore 

To graveyards 1^11 not go. 
The living with their wrinkled face 

And hair as white as snow. 

The roguish eyes of fair Jeanette 

I remember to this day, 
But do not care to see her now 

So wrinkled, old and gray. 

Then make love's hay while love's sun shines, 

The memory of one kiss 
May last a whole lifetime through 

And fill the world with bliss. 

To you and her that only felt 

The rapture of love's song, 
These heavenly sparks in memory's heart 

To you and her belong. 

Then kiss the blushing maiden's cheek. 

She bids you love today; 
Wait not for a better time. 

Lest beauty fades away. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 17 

Too bashful then to claim my own, 

My boyhood friends have gone, 
I'll make new friends in other lands, 

For this is not my home. 

Regret, remorse and bitter tears 

Have always played their part, 
While hope leads on with better cheer 

And love warms up the heart. 

Before I go I want to roam 

The old hills o'er again. 
And mark the old familiar spots 

For pleasure or for pain. 

To watch the river flowing by 

And hear the birds of song, 
Then go, for this is not my home, 

I stayed away too long. 



MISPLACED CONFIDENCE MAY 
BE BLISS 

Perhaps it is well that a young man doesn't know 
How little he does know. 
For I know that you know 
It would discourage him so. 



18 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



WILL NOT BLAME SELF 
TOO HAESHLY 

I will try to be true to myself, 

The plans that I have laid out, 

The bargains I have made 

Were made in good faith. 

As time goes on. 

If I see I have made mistakes, 

I will settle up the affair 

In an honorable, business-like manner, 

Not blaming myself or others. 

Lay new plans and hope on. 

And ask God's help to see the right. 



JOHNNIE PUNKIN AND HIS CAT 

Johnnie Punkin had a eat. 
That never lived to catch a rat. 
The reason was, as Johnnie said. 
Because his little cat was dead. 

His auntie said condensed milk that 

Would kill any little cat. 

And that 

Is just what killed the little cat. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 19 

His sister slammed it in the door, 

Broke both hind legs and one before, 

And that 

Is just what killed the little cat, 

For his auntie said that 

Would kill any little cat. 

And after that his auntie stepped and sn^ashed it 

flat 
And that 

Is just what killed the little cat, 
For his auntie said that that 
Would kill any little cat. 

His brother hammered on its head 
Till from its mouth and nose it bled, 
And that 

Is just what killed the little cat. 
For his auntie said that that would kill any little 
cat. 

Johnnie didn't cry, for he was brave. 
And planted flowers on its grave. 
With tearful voice and Johnnie said, 
^^You know my little cat, it's dead/' 



20 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



BEWITCHING EYES 

In Myrtle's eyes such love liglit shone, 
I dare not meet them with my own, 
For reason said in calm repose. 
Others claim love from eyes like those. 

Those drooping lids have held the flash, 
And other hearts have felt the crash 
And mourned the day they were not wise 
And dared to look in Myrtle's eyes. 



HAVE PURE THOUGHTS. 

Every impure thought stamps itself on every 

fibre of our being. 
Therefore, if we would be pure and noble looking 

men and women, we must have pure and 

noble thoughts. 

Let them be turned back and put to confusion 
who desire my hurt. — Bible. 



He becometh poor who dealeth with a slack 

md, bi 

-Bible. 



hand, but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 21 



ROSY SHANNON 

A shady lane where roses bloom 
I walked one Sunday afternoon, 
With nature humming love's sweet tune, 
I met sweet Rosy Shannon. 

Her grace, her beauty, form and size, 
Love's heavenly spark shone from her eyes, 
Which to resist would ne'er been wise, 
I loved sweet Rosy Shannon. 

The path it followed o'er the green 
And half way up the hill I seen, 
'Mid butterflies, like fairies' queen. 
There sat sweet Rosy Shannon. 

Love said, ''There's but one thing to do," 
I said, ''My love, I'll follow you." 
And oh! what bliss we lovers knew 
When I met sweet Rosy Shannon. 

I sat beside her on the green, 
We talked about the boats we'd seen, 
The river with its banks serene, 
I, close to Rosy Shannon. 



22 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

The sun kept sinking in the west, 
My heart kept pounding in my breast. 
Such love had never been confessed, 
As I told Rosy Shannon. 

Perhaps 'twas wrong, I see it now. 
My arm got round her waist somehow; 
I promised honor, made a vow 
And kissGid sweet Rosy Shannon. 

She said, *^0h, Mister, would you dare? 
Just see how you have spoiled my hair!'' 
Then, blushing, smiled and looked more fair. 
My angel, Rosy Shannon. 

The sun went down, 'twas growing late. 
The dove quit cooing to his mate. 
The moon came up and bid me wait 
And love sweet Rosy Shannon. 

'Twas well I did, it was the last. 
The moments flew, the hours passed ; 
At her home sour eyes were cast 
At n^y sweet Rosy Shannon. 

Could I come back, she bid me wait, 
*'I'll come and tell you at the gate." 
Hor father owned a large estate. 
Also sweet Rosy Shannon. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 23 



She said, ''My dear, please listen here, 

'Tis neither late nor early, 

A lover's fate, we stayed too late. 

My parents, they are surly. 

One year from this sweet day of bliss, 

I'll be of age and over, 

You'll see me up there on the hill, 

Hunting four-leaved clover. 

If you'll come to me on the hill 
No one our love can sever. 
And if you love me then as now 
I'll then be yours forever." 

With one long kiss we lovers knew 

Her whole soul through her lips I drew. 

She said, ''Now, love, that means be true. 

I left sweet Eosy Shannon. 

No woman since the world began 

Has ever had a better plan 

To win and hold the heart of man 

Than has sweet Rosy Shannon. 

Here on this cloudy winter day, 
I'll think of her and tune this lay, 
I'll build a home and then I'll pray 
For June and Eosy Shannon. 



24 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



ALL TEOUBLE IMAGINAEY 

The doubts and fears IVe had for years 

I'll gather all today 
And pile them up in one big heap 

And watch them fade away. 

Then start anew, my dear, with you, 

Hope for our guiding star. 
Imaginary troubles gone 

For that is all they are. 

We nurse our wrath, we pity self. 

We make of life a care. 
When God's sunshine is here for all 

Cheer up, let's have our share. 



HOPE AND HEALTH 

How can I improve my mind. 
As to be better in my thought, 

To find some better way to climb. 
And help some other as I ought? 

There's only one way I can see, 
To learn of Him that leadeth me; 
Lord, give me hope and health, I pray. 
To last me through another day. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 25 



BOUND AS HABIT'S SLAVE 

A boat unloading at the dock, 
The levee paved with granite rock, 
A smoky city crowded near. 
An old man standing by the pier. 

I caught his eye, his look was sad. 
And that was all the proof I had 
That he a troubled life had known. 
For trouble stamped his face her own. 

I learned his name, his history, too. 
He gave it me, I'll give it you; 
He had seen the river high and low. 
Had watched the boats that come and go. 

He knew their whistles and their bell, 
Their captains' names and mates as well; 
He had helped unload from every craft 
That handled freight or towed a raft. 

Away back fifty years or more. 
When Uncle Sam, with dogs of war. 
Had landed prisoners at the dock. 
Unloaded men and took on stock. 



26 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

The mules would bray at early morn 
When men went round to feed them corn. 
There were marching soldiers everywhere 
While martial music filled the air. 

**I then had work both night and day,'* 
He said, ^'before my hair turned gray. 
My old wife died, my children gone, 
And I am left here all alone 

"To dream the past and mourn the day 
When old age turned my hair so gray.*' 
I said, *^01d man, come, leave these docks, 
These hard paved streets and granite blocks. 

*^Come out where the green grass grows, 
Crabapple perfume and the rose. 
Away from smoke and poisoned air. 
Of nature's bountiful fruits, come share. 

**Come, nature calls, for it is May, 
There's work for all, both young and gray." 
He told me ^^No," and shook his head, 
■ **My dear old wife I loved is dead. 

^*My children gone, my hair is gray, 
I'll watch the boats another day, 
I'll beg today one hour's work — 
The captains know I never shirk. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 27 

**I'll eat and sleep as best I can 
And try to live an honest man.'* 
I left him standing on that rock, 
I left him at that steamboat dock. 

I left him in that city smoke, 

That poisoned air to breathe and choke. 

Standing there as habit's slave 

To only change that for his grave. 

I left him there, but can we say 
But habit has us chained today, 
And we but half our privilege share. 
In God's great universe so fair. 



HEAVEN HERE BELOW 

There's reasons why I would be great, 
There's reasons why I would be small. 

But not a reason have I found 
Why I would ne'er have been at all. 

To live with hope, to plan and dream. 
And know pure loves are all they seem; 
To live above a selfish thought. 
To help some other as I ought. 

If this ain't heaven here below. 
Please tell me why, I do not know. 



28 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



POOE LEWIS^ HAT 

Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, lie has gone with his hat, 
The very same one on which Aunt Emma sat. 

Poor Lewis, he said, ^'I am here to declare 

I did err when I put my plug hat in that chair. ^ ' 

Then he ran like a turkey and squealed like a rat, 
^'Aunt Emma, have mercy, you have sat on my 
hat.^' 

Then he pushed up the crown that was mashed 

down so flat. 
Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, he has gone with his hat. 

A plug hat once sat down on never will be 
An idol of worship for a sinner like me. 

Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, he has gone with his hat. 
The very same one on which Aunt Emma sat. 



*^What does your father do for a living, '^ said 
one boy to another, ^^I never see him working?'^ 
*'My father,'^ said the other, ^'is deacon of the 
Baptist Church, but he doesn't work very hard 
at it.'' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 29 



OLD MAN 

I am trying to figure if I can 
Why of late I'm called "old man/' 
By just a few careless chaps 
Who are no judge of age, perhaps. 

Only a few short years ago 

I thought that time moved too slow. 

Would I e'er be twenty-one, 

Be a man and not called '^Son." 

But when I think 'tis fifty years 
That I have lived with hopes and fears, 
Hope that some day I would be great 
That I might ow^n a large estate. 

Hoped that the one I loved was true, 

But doubts and fears they came and grew. 

A precious child I loved has died, 

I bow my head, give up my pride. 

Give up my dreams of wealth and fame 
And hope that we may live again; 
Give up the pride of looking young 
And try to master thought and tongue. 



30 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

To better all and hinder none, 

Bid selfish thoughts and deeds be gone, 

To hope along a higher plane 

Till doubts and fears ne'er come again. 



BIBLE 



He becometh poor who dealeth with a slack 
hand, but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. 

Let them be turned back and put to confusion 
who desire my hurt. 

A man's wisdom maketh his face to shine and 
the boldness of his countenance shall be changed. 



THE LETTER ENDED 

I wish I could see you, 

I wish I could talk with you ; 

Writing's a blessing, 

But I long to walk with you ; 

Through paths edged with flowers 

"We would roam on together. 

We would never grow weary. 

No, never; no never. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 31 



JUG OF RUM 

Old Jamie was an Irislimaii, 

Lived by a mining town, 
His dear old wife with loads of care 

Had learned to wear a frown ; 
For lads and lasses had they nine, 

All seemed as doomed to work; 
But Jamie, as his wife declared, 

Was but a drunken shirk. 
''And now, my own dear boys,'' she said, 

''All you a warning take. 
If you do as your father does 

My poor old heart will break. 
You know the road is through the swamp. 

And when he comes from town. 
He'll stagger off the pike some night 

And with the frogs go down." 
All this heard Jamie from the loft, 

For he was not asleep. 
He lounged away the whole forenoon. 

Then down the stairs did creep. 
With eyes all red, with nerves unstrung. 

As drunkards only know, 



32 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

His jug was empty and lie said, 
*'To town I am bound to go.'' 

He joined the miners in the town 

With many a song and dance. 
The hour grew late, till all had gone. 

But Jamie, John and Hans; 
And then the keeper of the inn 

Filled well auld Jamie's jug, 
Then all were ready then to go 

But for another mug. 

With that all parted in high glee. 

Each took his homeward road, 
But Jamie staggered most of all. 

His jug was such a load; 
And soon he neared the timber lot 

Where John had seen the ghost; 
He thought of stories Hans had told 

Of robbers lurking close. 

The drunken slew bridge he soon came near 

And crossed it in a fright. 
Named for old Ben who staggered off 

And drowned one dark night. 
He fancied he could hear the splash 

And same low sound. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 33 



For he and Ben were real old friends 
That night that he was drowned. 

And now he neared the dismal pike 

Through turtles, snakes and bogs, 
Where Jane had said he would go down 

To feed the pesky frogs ; 
He heard them croaking high and low. 

Each had a different key. 
He said, ''Dear Jane, if I get home 

I'll harken unto thee." 

When first he stepped upon the pike, 

All stopped as still as death, 
Which lasted for the first few steps 

While Jamie held his breath; 
When one coarse voice the stillness broke 

Said he, ''A jug of rum,'' 
When all the others in the swamp 

Soon echoed, ''Jug of rum." 

The waters lapped upon the pike, 
Jamie stood and gazed therein — 

A million heads were then in sight 
And one said, "Pull him in." 

Old Jamie said, "Now for my life!" 
And fast he tried to run ; 



34 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

The little ones said, ^'Pull him in/^ 
The big ones, **Jug of rnm.'^ 

When Jamie thought his hour had come 

He threw to them his jug. 
When all was still as if each frog 

Had stopped to fill his mug. 
He said, *' There, take it, pesky frogs. 

But only spare my life,^' 
Took to his heels and soon got home 

To tell his dear old wife. 

Auld Jamie lived to tell this tale 
To grandchildren round his knee. 

He said, **Now, hark, I hear them yet. 
It was so plain to me: 

^Jug of rum, pull him in, jug of rum.' '' 



FOEGIVE 



To find fault is an easy task; 

There is none perfect, no not one. 
I wrote this book for those I loved. 

Forgive me all the wrong IVe done. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 35 



SMOKIN' IN BED 

There lived a man, his name was Matern, 
His wife said no fire he built her would burn, 
You will eat a cold breakfast, your fire went out. 
He vowed he would build one and clear up the 
doubt. 

I admit, as he said, 't was in a queer place, , 
As he lay in the bed with the pipe in his face, 
The hot coals rolled out into the hay, 
Matern he got up before it was day. 

And his wife put out a terrible scream. 
With her shirt tail on fire she flew in a dream. 
Matern was more calm and stayed with his pipe, 
He sat down to warm and was smokin a snipe. 

When the neighbors with buckets of water flew in. 
But the house was burned down e^er they could 

begin. 
His wife she came back, but they had not a cent 
To build them a house, so they lived in a tent. 

No more would she ask him the fire to light 
For she thought of the day when she flew in the 
night. 



36 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

Matern lie grew thoughtful; '^McCarthy," he said, 
''Be very careful when smoking in bed, 

*' And don't go to sleep and dream with your pipe, 
Or into the hay you will be sticking your snipe. ' ' 
His wife and McCarthy advised him next day, 
To leave off his smoking when hitting the hay. 

Said he to McCarthy, ''It is a surprise, 
You'll live till you die and never get wise. 
On cold, frosty mornings I am under the quilt. 
And never get up until the fire is built, 

"And you up a-shivering and a-shaking away 
And your wife just a-snoozing, I'd smoke in the 

hay. 
Whist, now, McCarthy, you are my friend, 
I have a bad name and of troubles no end, 

"My wife is gone days and half of the nights. 
With the Daughters of Susan to preach women's 

rights. 
She says half the men should be kept in jail. 
And the other half only allowed out on bail, 

"For the house that she had she had not a care, 
Which accounts for the ashes you see over there. 
A house divided against itself never will stand, 
McCarthy, now pray for me, give me your hand. ' ' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 37 



NOT CITY BRED 

I wished to excel and make others happy, 

I had lived on a farm in a small country town, 

I longed for a life in a big noisy city 

Among men of wealth and men of renown. 

I had a few dollars, each day they grew fewer, 
I knew like things earthly, they would have an 
end; 

I looked in the faces of armies of people 
And in the whole city full saw not a friend. 

My shingle was out, I would practice my calling, 
I sat in my office, still never a call. 

My hopes they run low, I looked at the ceiling 
And then at the paper that covered the wall. 

In days gone by I was proud of my learning, 
I felt the earth tremble when I walked the 
street ; 
It was in a small town where everyone knew me. 
But here with these millions I am nothing com- 
plete. 



38 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

Who are these with such worthy mention? 

Are they doing things right or doing things 
wrong? 
Or are they here, these lords of creation, 

To scare such as me back where I belong? 

There must be a pull where wires are fastened. 
Politic, corporative or down on the rail. 

It's a long drawn out scheme I will not try to 
fathom, 
I'll go back to the country for fear I will fail. 



LITTLE MILDRED ALLEN 

There is little Mildred Allen, 

She ate about a gallon 

And washed it down with water 

When she hadn't ought to. 

Then her little stomach, 

It began to rumble. 

And her little stomach, 

It began to grumble. 

And this is what it said. 

(Repeat forty-seven times) 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 39 



PEOUD BUT NOT VAIN 

(To Mrs. Belle Whiteside, of Redfield, Kansas, 
at her birthday party, 1911) 

Of a little girl baby a story I'll tell; 

From a good stock of people they named the girl 

^^ Belle.'' 
With her grandfather she lived on the banks of 

a stream, 
The Father of Waters, where lovers did dream. 

The same old story, as all stories go, 

Belle had grown older and dreamed of a beau. 

A model young man as he passed by 

Saw the fair maiden so blushing and shy. 

And she saw him, too, with a true woman's art, 
'Twas the laugh in her eye that captured his 

heart. 
Straightforward and true she has strove for the 

right, 
If the battle must come, she would be in the fight. 

She was proud but not vain, all perfection she seen. 
As she ruled her own house with the air of a 
queen ; 



40 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

And to the haughty she would give them their 

share, 
But she would be loving if they would be fair. 

The most gentle and loving, most ardent and true, 
And yet the most stubborn one I ever knew, 
Eespecting herself, she had respect for us all, 
To be in her company no one need fall. 

Her life and her precepts shone plainer than day. 
There's but one way to do things and that's the 

right way. 
A true wife and mother, a neighbor and friend. 
With patience for erring ones' rights to defend. 

With hope for the future love sees a star. 
And the rustle of wings. Belle, will be where you 
are. 



DOROTHY DICK 

(Port Byron, Illinois, 1912) 

The worst little girl was Dorothy Dick, 
She could only be managed with a big stick; 
Her mamma did scold her from morning till night, 
Still Dorothy did what she knew was not right. 
Her papa came home and brought a big stick 
Then the best little girl was Dorothy Dick. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 41 



LOVERS STOEM 

Like a ship from a stormy ocean 

Has anchored in the bay, 
My thoughts and hopes, dear Mary, 

Have turned to you today. 

For I am on life's ocean, 
With all a rhymer's love; 

Oh, won't you try to love me. 
For I want you to love? 

My heart and soul thus anchored. 
In love's harbor will rest, 

I'd hold you while you'd nestle 
Your head upon my breast. 

I'd pour out all my treasure 
Of love and golden store. 

And with your love to guide me, 
I'd get a million more. 

Even roads of darkest midnight 
Your love will light and cheer, 

If you will only love me 
And let me call you Dear. 



42 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



SOMEONE TO LOVE AND SOME- 
ONE TO LOVE ME 

Someone to love and someone to love me, 
For fifty years has burdened my song, 

And well I remember when as a school boy. 
The passion first woke np it surely was strong. 

On our way from school the ponds had frozen 
over, 
We were running and sliding all in high glee. 
When Mary, a beauty, threw her shawl around 
me, 
And we ran together and slid, don't you see? 

Thus hid from the boys by the shawl of dear 
Mary, 
Too bashful to tell her the love that I bore. 
She woke my young love that perhaps should 
have slumbered. 
Since then for a woman love will slumber no 
more. 

I would swim o'er the river and dive to the bot- 
tom. 
In search of the pearls her neck to entwine. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 43 

I would dig for the gold and set it with diamonds, 
If loving she 'd promise that she would be mine. 

'er land and on seas I would be at her bidding, 
To be by her side 'round the world would I roam, 

Or this stormy love she could calm if she wanted. 
And I'd settle down and build her a home. 

The perfume of roses and crabapple blossoms, 

The aromas of nature none could her surpass, 
We would watch from our home on the banks 
of the river. 
The waves rolling in from the boats as they 
passed. 

Our children would roam in the shade of our 
orchard, 
As pure as the lilies that grow at their feet. 
Till the shadows of twilight grow thicker and 
deeper. 
And their ripples of laughter grow sleepy and 
sweet. 

Beneath our own roof we would lie down together. 
And sleep the sweet sleep of nature's restore. 

And wake with the morning with someone to love 
me, 
And someone to love as in days of yore. 



44 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



THE GUNNER, UNCLE 
BILLIE SPIRES 

You all know Uncle Billie Spires, 
He 's a boss that never tires. 
He 's a whip he loves to cracker, 
While he's chawin' his terbacker. 

He's a gun he never fires. 

Keeps it loaded np for liars. 

Who talk like a man called Shannon, 

Said he'd never cocked a cannon. 

When he'd stood in front of battle. 
Heard the shells both scream and rattle. 
Saw the rebels before him flying. 
Never thought of home or dying. 

Where they led he'd always f oiler, 
O 'er the hills and in the holler. 
There they'd have an awful battle. 
But he drove them on like cattle, 

Till they reached the sea, by thunder. 
All plunged in and went in under. 
None were left to tell the story. 
While he walked off with all the glory. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 45 

And still was left to say to Shannon, 
Old Bob Hunt and Billie Brannon 
If they would dare to say he^s lying 
He'd lick them all or die a-trying, 
To show the world that Billie Spires 
Has not forgotten his dead sires. 



THE CONCLUSION 

I may do wrong 

When I would do good, 
Vve made the effort, 

IVe done what I could. 

I hope for results 

For the need is great, 
I'll continue to hustle 

While I wait. 

Why strive so hard to get more when we do 
not take care of what we have got? 

Perfection is made up of trifles, but perfec- 
tion is no trifle. 

The young man who is afraid of doing more 
than his salary calls for will never have much 
salary to call for. 



46 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



THE MILKMAID'S CHARMS; OR, 
THE BASHFUL BOY 

On a farm when a boy where I worked lived 

Jeanette, 
Though years have gone on her sweet face haunts 

me yet, 
And the heavenly spark in the love signs she gave 
Were intended to make my faint boyish heart 

brave. 
As she held to my hand as we crossed o'er a 

stream, 
She thrilled me with bliss, well she knew love's 

sweet dream, 
As we went to the pasture as twilight came on. 
With Jeanette there to teach me I sooned learned 

this song. 

CHOEUS 

Come, boss, oh-oo, come booo, oh-oo, come boss, 

oh-oo, o-hoo. 
Come boss, o-hoo, come boss, o-hoo, come boss, 

o-hoo, o-hoo. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 47 

As she tripped through the valley where the 

strawberry grows, 
Jeanette, I have wandered with thee, 
She's fair as the lily, as sweet as the rose. 
On the hills where the big trees their long shadow 

throw. 
The turtledove's love song that everyone knows, 
Jeanette, I have wandered with thee. 

Love-sick tonight with my hair turning gray. 
With the snows of the winter I drifted away, 
I hoped to return when the winter was o'er. 
Too bashful to tell her the love that I bore. 
A sweet girlish face and a pure woman's love, 
Man's guiding star to the haven above. 
Love can't be stilled that this song will not rouse. 
When I go to the pasture to call home the cows. 

CHORUS 



A stuttering painter told me he tried to sell 
soap. He knocked at the door and said, **M-m- 
mad — m, do-do-do-you-you-you-wan to-to-to-to 
buy- buy-so-so-some so-so-soap? It-is-only-te-te- 
ten ce-ce-cents, and she slam — slammed the door 
in my fa-face." 



48 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



YE STUBBORN GLEN 

A strange and stubborn sow had Glen, 

As all his neighbors say, 
He pulled her ears to the slop, 

Her tail to come away. 

Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, 

There goes ye stubborn Glen, 
And marvel at ye stubborn hog, 

As stubborn as ye men. 

With wife and children dressed for church. 

Ye blessed Sabbath morn. 
Glen blessed the Lord as he drove by 

The fields of waving corn. 

The old mare balked, Glen got a club 

And not a word he said, 
He hit one lick, get out and walk. 

The old gray mare was dead. 

Make me firm in the right, oh Lord, 

And fervent was his prayer, 
When all ye people in that church, 

Knew Glen had killed the mare. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 49 

Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, 

There goes ye stubborn Glen, 
And marvel at ye stubborn horse, 

As stubborn as ye men. 

In early days out in the west. 

Ye Glen was hunting deer. 
He strayed away from the rest, 

For ye Glen he was queer. 

As night came on Glen killed a deer. 

For stubborn was his aim. 
He led the horse that dragged ye deer, 

Ye stubborn Glen was game. 

Ye night grew hideous, for ye v/olves 

Had scented on Glen's trail. 
How well they knew Glen was lost. 

Told by their howling wail. 

Ye moon came up and looked on Glen 

Ye wolves they came up, too, 
And showed their murderous, grinning teeth, 

And bolder grew a few. 

They ran ahead and snapped at Glen, 

The horse and at the deer, 
Now all were ready for the rush. 

But Glen he showed no fear. 



50 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

The imps of hell seemed to be with 

That howling, snarling pack, 
Naught with the stubbornness of Glen 

Would e'er have kept them back. 

When morning came Glen found the camp, 
Ye deer still dragged behind. 

Glen told the story of ye night, 
It lay fresh in his mind. 

Ye neighbors stand and point with awe 
There goes ye stubborn Glen, 

And marvel at ye stubborn wolves. 
As stubborn as ye men. 

A battle raged right in the road. 
Where Glen was bound to go, 

He marched right on mid bullets thick. 
As ever flew the snow. 

Glen fell, shot through the lungs as he. 

Men die with a sore toe. 
But Glen he lived to tell this tale. 

He says he ought to know. 

Men to conquer, though they die. 
Must have the real backbone. 

With cotton strings run up their backs, 
They cannot stand alone. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 51 

Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, 

There goes ye stubborn Glen, 
He has no cotton string backbone, 

A found in things called men. 



PURE-MINDED FRIEND 

'Tis sweet to find 
One pure of mind 

With love's true friendship glowing, 
Love's heavenly spark 
Dispels the dark, 

Such friends are well worth knowing. 



SO LITTLE DONE 

I seem to do so little, 

But if I only find 
A way to keep all envy 

And mistrust from my mind. 
Perhaps I then will better 

See the right to do. 
And then I hope, my loved one, 

To do what's right by you. 



52 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



TEEGO LANG 

A love affair caused Trego Lang 
To let his gnin off with a bang, 
He said, ''I'll go and join the gang 
Where every member is sure to hang. ' ' 

While at his home the women cried, 
He ate up all the fish they fried, 
And said, ''Don't you weep for me 
For I'll go off and on a spree." 

And at the town he bought some rope, 
Some strychnine and some other dope; 
He had a razor in his boot, 
Likewise a gun he didn't shoot. 

I'll hang myself or cut my throat, 
Or butt my brains out like a goat. 
To him it seemed it would be great, 
To swim the fish that he had ate. 

But when he went out on the pier, 
Like fairy tales the thing runs queer, 
There was a little Katie Jones, 
She said, "Trego, how are your bones!' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 53 

He said, ^^Well, Katie, I have three/' 
She said, ^^Come right along with me, 
Right to the aviation meet,'' 
And she kept smiling on him sweet. 

She said, ^^Oh would you like to Ayr ' 

He said, ^^I would, I want to die." 

She said, ^^Well, Trego, you sure are game," 

And blessed the day she learned his name. 

^^Oh, buy one, Trego, I'll buy two," 
In they got and off they flew. 
He still was hanging to the rope. 
The strychnine and the other dope. 

She said, *' Trego, what does it mean? 
Such hanging on I've never seen. 
^'Well, Katie, while we're in the air, 
I'll lay the whole blamed story bare." 

When Trego the story had gone through. 
They just flew o'er the house of Rew, 
They dropped the razor and the rope, 
The strychnine and the other dope. 

Right at the feet of Sadie Rew 

They waved their hands and on they flew; 

In the package was a note, 

Trego had forgotten he had wrote. 



54 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

It told how lie was hanging high, 
Seen by a man a-passing by, 
Also how he had cut his throat 
And how with whiskey he did bloat. 

Also how he was drowned at sea 
Like all bad men end on a spree, 
Just how the sandy bottom felt 
Where he lay deader than a smelt. 

Just how it feels to drown at sea. 
The salty waters filling me, 
The reason he had took his life, 
Because she wouldn't be his wife. 

She read away and held her breath, 
**He washed ashore and froze to death.'' 
She said, **0h, mamma, I shall faint. 
Come, dash some water on my paint." 

Trego didn't die as some might think. 
Nor did he take another drink. 
He just goes out and has a spin 
And wears the same old-fashioned grin. 

And thanks the Lord that on that day 
He met Miss Katie on the way. 
And when he needs a little cheer 
He meets Miss Katie on the pier. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 55 

Katie said, **The chance I take 
To save some men would scare a snake. 
When I see them with some rope 
Some strychnine and some other dope, 

^'Coming out on the pier. 
Looking wild and acting queer, 
I say, ^ There ^s a man to save, 
He's looking for a watery grave.' 

*'And when nothing else will do, 
I wave to the saving crew. 
Then I just go and jump in, too. 
And where he's drowning I swim by 

''And cry, '0, save me or I die!' 
He gets to work saving me 
And just forgets himself you see, 
I send him home to his ma, 

''And tell him not to mind his pa, 
"For there's as good fish in the sea 
As e'er were caught like him and me. 
And if he need a little cheer 
Just come and meet me on the pier." 

You would be surprised the men they made. 
And how glad are the hearts that break, 



56 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

And how they live their mothers' pride 
With wife and babies by her side. 

Thus ends the tale of Katie Jones, 

How she saved Trego with his three bones. 



NO INVENTION TO SAVE 
THE RICH 

He died and left his money, 
And left us wondering why 

That those that have the money 
Should ever have to die. 

There are many hard stories told of 

How he robbed the poor, 
The rich that he had cheated. 

And where he is gone they are sure. 

Yet rich and poor must die alike 
When ships go down at sea; 

Inventive man has found no plan 
Where rich men may go free. 

We poor, who think that riches 
Would bring us all the bliss. 

Have got to stop and ponder 
When told a tale like this. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 57 

He died and left his money, 

And left us wondering why 
That those who have the money 

Should ever have to die. 



HOPE AND LOVE 

Hope is the sunshine of heaven 

That shines through the cloud of despair; 
To be without hope, life's a burden, 

Too heavy for mortals to bear. 

Come, let us hope on and hope ever 
And mingle our hope with our love ; 

As pure and as sweet as an anthem 
E 'er sung by the choir above. 

For since I have known you, my loved one, 
My love and my hope have run high; 

And clouds of despair cannot gather 
While your love and your sunshine are nigh. 

I never will be so despondent 
As to forget that once I was loved 

By the purest and best of all women, 
Now gone to the heaven above. 



58 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

A mother, a sister, a daughter, 
As pure and as sweet and as true 

As e'er blessed the life of a loved one; 
Have such blessings showered on you? 

May hope flow on like a river 

That ends in the depths of the sea, 

And love, just as constant and lasting, 
I promise, my darling, to thee. 

For those that have gone I still cherish 
The hope that we will meet above. 

While here there is some one to love me. 
For hope says there is some one to love. 



CHINESE PROVERBS 

Regard a youth with respect, for how do we 
know but his future may be equal to our present, 
but if he attain the age of forty-five or fifty and 
has not yet made himself felt, he is not worthy 
of being regarded with respect. 

In usual sickness employ the family doctor, but 
in chronic ailments a new doctor is more helpful. 

A man who whips his wife is as he who beat- 
eth a sack of flour — all that is good flies away; 
what is left is not worth having. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 59 



TUNE CASEY JONES 

Come, all you farmer lads, and hear 
How Eddie shoveled oats for the tale runs queer ; 
They said when the oats came through that spout 
The man didn't live that could shovel them out. 

CHORUS 

Eddie he shoveled and he shoveled, 

He shoveled, shoveled, shoveled till his shovel 

got hot; 
Eddie he got a barrel of water 
To put the shovel in when the shovel got hot. 

Eddie's team flew to the bin. 

Forth and back and back again, 

They run till their tails cracked round the stack 

Where they met themselves a-coming back. 

CHOEUS 

Eddie threw that oats so high. 

Some of it stuck up in the sky 

And didn't come down till they went to bed, 

When it pattered on the roof like rain, they said. 

CHORUS 



60 FOE MS, SONGS AND YARNS 

Eddie he just sweat like rain, 

Forth, and back and back again, 

The mud in the road got as thick as tar 

For he sprinkled that road like a sprinkling car. 

CHOKUS 

The farmers came from miles around 
And gathered on that thrashing ground, 
*^Holy smoke !'^ you heard them cry, 
*'See the blood in Eddie's eye/' 

CHOEUS 

When the farmer crew they came to town 
They told the story round and round. 
How Eddie's hat was in the ring, 
For shoveling oats he had the swing. 

CHOKUS 

Eddie said when he got through, 
*'IVe set the boys a pace or two." 
He went right home and dressed up neat. 
He kissed his wdfe and baby sweet. 

CHORUS 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 61 



CANARY AND HIS HOGS 

Michael Canary, he had a very 
Queer way of slopping his hogs. 

He drove them all over 

His bare field of clover 
Belabored by three savage dogs. 

*^0f corn/' said Canary, **I haven't a berry, 
I'll just have to raise them on whey." 

When he tried to slop them 

No devil could stop them 
From crowdin' and squealin', you say 

The dogs he set on them, 

He said, *^Now, doggone them, 

I'll show them to keep away," 
And loud he did call them. 
The hounds they did bawl them. 

When the troughs he had full of whey. 

He chased the fields over 
With two hounds and Rover 



62 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

In order to drive the hogs back; 

He managed to stop them 

Where he could slop them, 
But of swearin' Canary 'd no lack. 

Their backs were like razors 

But they were good grazers. 

Canary would grin as he'd say, 
*^Wife says I'm a sinner. 
These dom hogs grow thinner 

And more like a shadder each day.'' 

** 'Twixt runnin' and sloppin' 
They squeal without stoppin'. 
The hounds snappin' at their thin legs." 

Canary swore louder. 

The air smelled of powder. 
Oh, pity! his wife how she begs. 

The hounds they did chase him, 

Eound the field they did race him 

Till they scared at the slop they had not, 

Canary looked over 

His bare field of clover, 
Said, * * Devil a hog have I got ! ' ' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 63 

He said, ^*I have learned it, 

Or rather discerned it. 

As IVe heard the auld people say, 

They have scared at their shadder 

And what could be sadder 
With their squeals, they have all blowed away.'* 



LOVE AND HOPE 

Lord of heaven, let me feel the love and hope of 

long ago, 
Before I ever knew the pangs of hope undone, of 

love untrue. 

I prayed the Lord to guide me on. 
Though earthly sight of hope be gone, 
Though dark and dreary grows the way, 
I'll look to thee, I'll hope and pray. 

Hope sees a star and love can hear 
The rustling wings of angels near. 
All who have hope have felt and heard 
That ne'er described by pen or word. 



64 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



EESPECT YOURSELF 

Let us try to live so that we can respect our 
own company. When we are alone it is a terrible 
thing to have our own conscience condemning us 
all the time. Eespect yourself and you will have 
the respect of others. 

Let us have a congenial atmosphere in our 
home, in our town, in our country. Be courteous 
and a gentleman to all whom you meet. 

A Mr. Whitley, of Bonaparte, Iowa, who was 
a spiritualist, once said to me, *' Congenial spir- 
its make congenial minds. Congenial minds make 
a congenial atmosphere, as though this room 
were filled with a congenial atmosphere.'^ Then 
he said that congenial atmosphere is what makes 
good crops. Spiritualism will be accounted for 
some day scientifically as a law of mind over mat- 
ter, but they do not want one in their circle who 
is not congenial, who opposes them. Mind form 
controls is superior to matter. Somewhere mind 
and matter come into rapport. We can imagine 
the mind stirs the brain, the brain stirs the nerve. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 65 

the nerve stirs the muscle, the muscle moves the 
bones. 

I think what I am going to do when I open 
and shut my hand ; so we will try to follow from 
the mind to the brain to the nerve, to the muscle, 
to the bones, to the tips of our fingers. How much 
it goes beyond that, we do not know, but we feel 
drawn to some people. We stay with them and 
talk to them, they do us good. Others repel us; 
we want to get away as soon as we can. As 
Hennessey said, ^^They would get along well to- 
gether if they could be kept apart.'' 

Let us be one to try to make a pleasant atmos- 
phere in our home. Love is the fulfillment of the 
law. Have a lovable, kindly feeling for all. That 
will have its impression on those you meet and 
who knows, but it may be felt by your friends 
and loved ones miles away. ^'A kind answer 
turneth away wrath, but harsh words stirreth 
up anger.'' 

Even a mean thought is felt. The old slave 
complained to his master that one of the other 
slaves had called him a black nigger. **Well," 
said the master, *^are you not a black negro?" 
**Yes, massah, I know I is, it ain't what he said 
dat hurt, but the way he said it." ^*Do nothing 



66 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

whereby thy brother stumbleth, is offended or 
made weak/* 

A public speaker should be able to convey his 
thoughts as a wireless telegraph sending a mes- 
sage. Not alone in the sender, but the receiving 
instrument must be kept in tune or accord with 
the sender. Some have the ability to get our 
attention, to make us anxious to hear them. 



A Swede who got terms confused when asked 
if he would be a pallbearer, a man had died at 
the factory at which he worked. ^'Well,'' said 
the Swede, ^ ' there is a feller who has been in dis 
country longer than I bin. I ask him; let you 
know what he said tonight. No, Mr. Johnson, I 
no like to be a polar bear, I find dos out by my 
friend, a polar bear sits on the cold ice and watch 
for fish, and jump in cold ice water, no wonder 
the poor feller died. I got not very good job, 
but sometime I had some good job, and I jumped 
it. I went up to Wisconsin and dug a well one 
hundred feet high, and never get a cent for, so 
dot make me been 'fraid to change mine job, and 
A tank I no like to be a polar bear, not take dot 
job.- 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 67 



HOPE AND LOVE 

And now I hasten to compare 
God's love with all my selfish care; 
I feel that time is slipping by, 
I wish to live, I dread to die. 

Why is life not all bliss to me? 
Because I am not what I would be. 
The God in man is to improve; 
The God in man is hope and love. 

Hope sees a star, but love says ^^Come 
And share with us a better home," 
I followed on while love she led 
Up through the gardens of the dead. 

There lies those you have known in youth, 
I felt I knew she told the truth ; 
A gloom had settled round me there 
For hope had gone, I saw despair. 

But love still beckoned me to come, 
*^ Don't tarry here, we are going home.'' 
I followed on and then I saw 
Love, the fulfillment of the law. 



68 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

Without love, I could plainly see 
There was no hope for men like me. 
Love told of home with mansions grand 
Hope then came back and took my hand. 

I'll now trust love through endless day 
But hope once left me on the way. 



Two Irishmen, when they came to a town and 
read on a box car that stood on the track, ^ ^ Cape 
City, 60,000. '^ She is quite a place. They should 
have read, ^^ capacity, 60,000." 

The doctor said to the old darkey, ^^Well, 
Uncle Ned, I feel it's my duty to tell you you 
are going to die. If you have anything to say you 
better be saying it.'' ^'I ain't much to say, doc- 
tor, but I will say you made mighty short work 
of it." 

The old settler at Jewell, Kansas, said my 
neighbors heard I was going to make a speech 
here today, and some of them said if I didn't stop 
in something like reasonable time they would 
shoot me, and I wouldn't mind being half shot 
to start with. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 69 



THE GASOLINE STOVE FOR THE 
KANSAS HOMESTEADER 

IN 1880 

It is years since we came to this fair sunny 

state, 
Dear Kansas, I love with advantages so great; 
Your soil and your climate and pastures are good, 
But al^s ! on your prairies we are doomed without 

wood. 

On the creeks there's but little and so hard to 

work, 
Such as Cottonwood and elm from which all men 

shirk. 
I have tried to split cottonwood chunks in the 

month of July 
Till the temperature of my body showed fever so 

high, 

A doctor would have said, ^ ' He cannot recover. ' ' 
Then my wife would have had pity on me, her 

dear lover. 
But wait, I will tell you her lot was the same, 
Well for me she had not known this when chang- 
ing her name. 



70 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

She would hunt the farm over, pick up every 

chip, 
Our children went unpunished for she burnt up 

the whip; 
But joy now has come and from here I'll not rove, 
A blessing has reached us — a gasoline stove. 

No beauties of nature or art can surpass 
Our neat little stove generating the gas; 
For a penny an hour each fire will run, 
Wash, iron and bake, all neatly done. 

On a hot summer day when I turn out for noon 
I find dinner ready, I am never too soon. 
A smiling little woman meets me at the door. 
Not het up by the fire as in days of yore. 

Our baby is not cross nor broken out with the heat. 
Our home is so pleasant, so cool and so neat, 
I feel in my heart there is some one needs praise 
For blessing our lot and gladdening our days. 

I will first render praise to God up in heaven 
That men can invent for the faculty given. 
Then to the inventor and manufacturer, too, 
And lastly McClung, who will sell one to you. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 71 



MY lEISH ROSE 

She had promised me to wed, 

Then said no, and killed me dead; 

I just pined away till my hair turned gray 

From grieving. 

I bethought me she was old, 
I was just as good as gold 
Then I did propose to an Irish Rose 
Of twenty. 

She accepted, took a ride 

In the auto by my side; 

No false teeth you see when she smiled on me. 

So healthy. 

I soon found what I had missed 
When my Irish Rose I had kissed, 
She just clung to me like a vine, you see. 
So healthy. 

Wife and laughing baby boy, 

Fill our home with love and joy; 

I have this to say to men turning gray: 

If healthy 



72 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

Marry younger than yourself, 
Share your talents and your wealth 
On a baby boy, mamma's pride and joy. 
If healthy. 

Keep love's fire burning bright 

For the one that treats you right, 

And when she is gray think of your wedding day 

So happy. 

But if she has been a flirt, 
Played coquette and done you dirt, 
Gets to forty-one know that she is done. 
Stop grieving. 

The saddest word of tongue or pen, 
Whittier said, *^It might have been." 
He just pined away till his dying day, 
And left us. 

Sour flirt and sour dude, 
Neither baked nor fried nor stewed. 
But they're good and done when they're forty- 
one. 
Not healthy. 

Please excuse me, I must go, 
I think I hear the baby crow, 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 73 

And wife with sunny haiT waiting for me there 
And singing, 

^' Mammals baby boy, 

Go to sleep, darling, and don't you cry, 

Mamma's baby boy, your papa will come to us 

by and by. 
Mamma's baby boy. 

**For papa loves mamma and both love you, 
Then close your eyes so dreamy and blue. 
Your papa will come, he has always been true. 
Mamma's baby boy." 



I said, ''Mrs. Kelly, how is Tom!" ''Poor 
Tom, poor Tom," she said, "he died of a smoking 



cancer. ' ' 



Josh Billings said of the preacher who kept 
on after he had preached two hours to a tired, 
sleepy congregation and seemed to have made no 
impression, "After a man has been boring for 
an hour and don't strike ile, he must come to one 
of two conclusions. He is not boring in the right 
place, or his auger is too small." 



74 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



WIT SHAEPENED WITH USE 

As I see and hear public men I am convinced 
that they become on the alert and too sharp for 
us common fellows to interrupt or question when 
they have the floor. It is said a drunken man 
once staggered up to Mr. Moody and said, **Do 
you recognize mef Mr. Moody said, ^^I don't 
remember of ever seeing you.'' The drunken 
man said, *^You ought to remember me — you are 
the man that converted me." ^^ Quite likely," 
Mr. Moody said. **You look about like some of 
my work. If the Lord had converted you you 
would be in a better fix than you are now." 

It is said that a minister on a passenger train 
with a delegation of preachers from the Metho- 
dist Church South, who had heard Wendell Phil- 
lips the night before handle the slavery question, 
said, *^Mr. Phillips, why don't you come down 
south where slavery exists and do your talking?" 
Said Phillips, ^^ You are a preacher of the gospel, 
trying to save sinners from hell?" *^Yes," said 
the preacher. *^Why don't you go right down 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 75 

into hell and preach where the devil isT' asked 
Phillips. 

At a conference of preachers where a learned 
bishop presided, a backwoods preacher in rather 
a boasting way thanked the Lord that he had no 
college education. The old bishop said, *^The 
brother doesn^t mean to thank the Lord for his 
ignorance f ^'Yes,'' said he, *4f that is the way 
you put it, I do.^' ^^Well,'' said the bishop, ^*my 
dear brother, you have a great deal to be thank- 
ful for.'' 

It is told that Benjamin Franklin, when sign- 
ing the Declaration of Independence, said, ^ ' Gen- 
tlemen, we must hang together. If we do not. 
King George will see to it that we hang sepa- 
rately. ' ' 



The old Scotch storekeeper, when he came 
home and found his green Scotch nephew had 
sold about one hundred dollars worth of goods 
to a worthless lawyer, said, ^^This is a sorry day 
for me, Sandy, I fear I shall lose my mind, and 
then I will be na better off than yourseP, poor, 
fickle lad.'' 



76 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



AS I HEARD SAM JONES AT 
MOLINE, ILLINOIS 

He said, ^'Wheii I was in Georgia I preaclied 
to a colored congregation. Among my audience 
was a good old soul; she would have weighed 
two hundred pounds dressed. When I had fin- 
ished speaking she came to shake hands with 
me and said, * Brother Jones, you talk mo like 
a nigger than any man I ever heard. You have a 
white skin, but bress the Lo^d, you have a black 
heart.' '^ He said what we are short of in this 
world is men, real men, with backbones. ^*A 
young lady sits out on the front porch Sunday 
evening. She sees something coming up the road 
smoking a cigarette ; she thinks it is a man coming 
to see her. It isn't a man at all, it's just a pair 
of old breeches; he hasn't any backbone, he has 
just a cotton string run up his back." He said 
a dude was a cipher with the rim knocked off, 
and the way he had of telling you to quit your 
meanness left the impression with you, ^'Better 
be a better man. ' ' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 77 



AS I HEARD INGERSOLL 

At Keokuk, Iowa, I heard Robert G. Ingersoll 
lecture on Shakespeare. I must say he was 
among the very best public speakers I ever heard. 
He said when Shakespeare has said a thing all 
has been said on that subject that can be said. 
An ordinary man might have said, ^*0n a night 
like this a dog should stand against my fire.'' 
A little smarter man might have said, ^'My 
enemy's dog should stand against my fire," but 
Shakespeare said, '^On a night like this my 
enemy's dog, though he would have bit me, should 
stand against my fire." Now, there is all said 
on that subject that can be said. Nothing is left 
unsaid. In the cook of Athens insensible the 
palate of old age, more stupid than the soft lips 
of youth, to move I put much mustard in their 
dish with quickening sauces, make there stupor, 
keen and lash the lazy blood that creeps within. 
In thought we see the blood in the old man's 
veins run slow. Shakespeare was a great reader 
of character. He said, ^^Let me have about me 
fat men, men with sleek heads, that sleep o' 



78 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS 

nights. Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look; 
he thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. 
Ingersoll said, *^In my opinion Shakespeare 
pumped every man dry he met. He was a poet, 
an artist, a philosopher, a mechanic, a lawyer, 
a judge, a prince, a peasant, an all around man, 
such as has never been equaled.'' When Inger- 
soll had talked two hours and quit I wished for 
him to go on. He left the impression with me 
that Shakespeare was the greatest man that ever 
had lived. I also realized, as Beecher once said, 
in introducing Ingersoll, ^^He is the best expo- 
nent of the English language on the globe. ' ' His 
concentration of thought, his ability to make us 
see and feel as he saw and felt surely was the 
divine in the human; and quoting from his ora- 
tion at his brother's grave, ''Hope sees a star, 
and listening love hears the rustle of a wing." 
Surely such minds must live again. 



He said, **You remember the medicine you 
gave me for the wart on my face? Well, the 
face is all gone, but the wart is still there." 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 79 



PANAMA CANAL IN THREE 
ROOTS 

Last summer at the Old Settlers' Meeting at 
Jewel City, Kansas, I heard the editor of the 
Mail and Breeze, McNeal. He said that the wind 
blew so hard in Kansas that the banks had to ship 
their notes and mortgages out of the state a little 
before the tax assessor came round, as the wind 
blew so hard about that time of the year, they 
dare not keep them in the state. He said Kansas 
is so productive that if all the wheat that had 
been raised in Kansas had been ground into flour, 
and that flour had been made into one immense 
doughnut, and all the colored people of the Afri- 
can race could have been put inside the hole of 
that doughnut, before they could have eaten their 
way out, they all would have died of old age 
and the race problem would have been solved. 

He said if all the corn that had been raised in 
Kansas had been fed to hogs and by some magic 
wand could have become one immense hog, that 
hog could have rooted out the Panama Canal in 



80 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

three roots, showing Kansas was somewhat on 
the hog. He left the impression with ns that 
Kansas soil and Kansas men were capable of 
great things. As Josh Billings said of '^caliker,'' 
nobody knows what Kansas will do next. Kansas 
don^t know herself. 



Do what you like to do best, that is honorable, 
but try to get in line with your possibilities. 

An old Scotchman who thought his apprentice 
slow, said, *' Sandy has three hands — a right 
hand, a left hand and a little behindhand. ' ' 

A stuttering, stammering man, or an old coun- 
tryman with a large brogue, a Dutchman that 
would say, *^If a dog don't know his master the 
best ting is right away the gun, or throw de cow 
over de fence some hay.'' 

Paddy Tobin had difficulty in getting the words 
out. He was asked by John Buckley how much 
he got for his hogs. *^Four — four — four — dollars 
and a cracker, ' ' said Paddy. He was not endowed 
by nature for a successful public speaker. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 81 



MATILDA FLETCHER 

At Erie, Illinois, I once lieard Matilda Fletcher 
lecture. The caption of her lecture was, *^Is man 
an angel f I thought perhaps we would get a 
bad setting out, but was agreeably surprised 
when in beautiful language she showed man to 
be only a little lower than the angel here and 
capable of becoming greater in the beyond. She 
said when a little girl, she and her little brother 
slept upstairs, where the roof came down low. 
One stormy night the rain and hail was pelting 
on the roof, the wind and thunder made the house 
shiver and quake in all its joints. She knelt by 
the bed and said her prayers; her little brother 
stayed longer on his knees than common. When 
he got into bed he said, ^^What did you pray?" 
She said, *^ *Our Father, who art in heaven, and 
^Now I lay me down to sleep.' '* He said, *^I 
prayed more than that, I alius pray lots on these 
thunderin' nights, '* and she said as she grew 
older she found that all men and women prayed 
on the thunderin' nights. Prayer is the upward 
turning of the eye when none but God is near. 



82 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 



YE PLUMBER 

Behold ye plumber went forth to plumb, and 
when he had plumbed but eight short hours, lo 
and behold! his bill was forty dollars; and Esau 
sat a watch and with a leveled shotgun did guard 
ye gate and when ye plumber came forth to plumb 
he smote him with the jawbone of another man's 
mule. Ye plumber being sorely pressed, betook 
himself to the brush and the hill country round 
about, for Esau belabored him hip and thigh 
until the going of the sun, and ye plumber was 
heard of in those parts no more forever. And 
Esau caused a decree to be sent forth through 
all the country round about, that if a plumber's 
shadow so much as fell in the doorway of his 
domicile or a plumber's foot was sat on his vast 
estate, there would be blood on the moon, and 
he would not leave a stone unturned until he had 
appeased the vengeance of his wrath. A warning 
to all plumbers to desist from unreasonable, ex- 
orbitant and profanity causing out-of-sight 
prices. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 83 



IMPROVE 

We are today what we were made by the pro- 
ducing causes. We had no part or lot in the 
matter. A child born idiotic is not to blame. We 
are today what our education and surroundings 
have made us. We are today what we have made 
ourselves as actors in the premises. 

We are not responsible for the disposition we 
were born with, but we are very much respon- 
sible for the disposition we die with. There is 
no limit known to the attainment of a man or 
woman with an average development of body and 
brain. 

Rodney Abbott, near Los Angeles, California, 
told me of coming home one day from the lumber 
office not feeling well. He went in the front of 
the house and lay down on the lounge. A blind 
girl opened the door from an adjoining room. 
After a while, ** Rodney,^* she said, *^are you 
homeT' ^^Yes,'' he answered, **but how did you 



84 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS 

know?'' ''I smelled your shoes." He had on a 
pair of new tan shoes. 

George Hunt, Jr., near Port Byron, Illinois, 
told me when cutting wood last winter a blind 
mare was running loose in the ten-acre timber 
lot. He took an apple with him and laid it on a 
stump. He saw the blind mare coming through 
the timber straight for that apple and was within 
two feet of it when he took it off the stump. 

My uncle, J. K. M. Looker, told me of a man 
who took the hats and belongings of guests at a 
Chicago hotel as they went into dinner by the 
hundreds. He gave to each as they came out, 
his hat, umbrella or package marked ^'nothing." 
Some stayed in ten minutes, some half an hour, 
etc., but he remembered the face of the person, the 
hat, and where he had laid it. If we do not re- 
member, it is because we are careless. Our mind 
is on something else or nothing in particular. 

The story is told of a New York newspaper 
man, who thought he never could remember 
names as long as they were being told to him. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 85 

His wife said to him, *'I will help you improve 
your memory of names. Each night when you 
come home to supper, tell me of the people you 
have met at your office and their names." He 
did that and became remarkable for his memory 
of names. He was called Nestor of the New 
York Press. It was said a man stood a poor 
show who did not consult and get the support of 
Thurlow Weed. 

If w^e are not up to the standard of what we 
would be, it is up to us to improve. 



AS I REMEMBER DR. HARVEY 
W. WILEY 

I heard Dr. Harvey W. Wiley at the Augus- 
tana College, Rock Island, Illinois, who won fame 
as the aggressive of the chemistry bureau, at 
Washington, D. C. He said the public health is 
worth more than all the resources and wealth of 
the country. There is only one cause for which 
a respectable person ought to die, and that is 



86 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

old age. More people die from impure and poorly 
cooked food than from all other causes. I wish 
we had more cookstoves and fewer pianos. I 
would rather know how to cook a potato than 
paint frescoes like Michael Angelo. Few see 
them, but all eat potatoes. Never heard from a 
president's message to safeguard the public 
health, but hopes Wilson will say something. 
Feels kindly toward Taft for not kicking him out 
but giving him time enough to resign. Not a 
word in Taft's message about the public health, 
when it is the nation's greatest asset. When the 
French tried to build the Panama canal each tie 
in their forty miles of railroad along the canal 
route could have been numbered with a dead man 
for each tie. Uncle Sam's medical department 
each morning, before any one stirred along the 
line of works, sprinkled kerosene oil in each pond 
or puddle of water formed from the rains the 
night before that no mosquitoes could breed to 
cause malaria, and the death rate in the canal 
zone is only three to each thousand in a year. 
In the United States, where it is much healthier, 
naturally the death rate is fourteen to the thou- 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 87 

sand if we had but three to the thousand in this 
country the average length of life would be 
eighty-eight years instead of forty-four as it is 
now. Fifty-two per cent, of the really great and 
good things have been accomplished by men be- 
tween sixty and seventy years of age, while only 
two per cent have been accomplished by men 
under forty. He said when we have gotten ready 
to do something really great we have been dead 
about fifteen years. Out of one thousand babies 
born one hundred and twenty-seven die before 
they are one year old. Most of these deaths 
could be prevented. During July and August 
one thousand babies die each day. The mother's 
milk is the best food for the baby; good cow's 
milk comes next; next a good cook is the best 
blessing a household can have, not a drudge, 
but a fine art. Dr. Wiley said life is worth too 
much to take it by your own hand over love 
affairs or poorly cooked and adulterated food. 
He said never run after a woman or a street 
car — another one will be along in a short time. 
A man at forty-four has spent five solid years 
at the table eating, twenty years in getting and 



88 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

preparing food and sleeping to allow his food 
to digest and assimilate. Therefore he regards 
eating the principal industry of man. He told 
us of the man who had inscribed on his wife's 
tombstone, ^'The light of my life has gone out.'' 
In about a year he married another. A wag 
wrote below the inscription, **But I have struck 
another match, if the light that is in thee be dark- 
ness, how great is that darkness; strike another 
match." According to physiology the epificies 
join to the long bones of all animals with verte- 
bra at about one-fifth of their age. In the man 
the epifices join to the femur bones at twenty or 
twenty-one years, showing man should live to 
one hundred years. 



0. W. LOOKER, M. D. 

I want to do all the good I can in all the ways 
I can to all that need the little knowledge that 
I have. I went through a medical college, got 
my sheepskin, practiced medicine ten years, and 
among what I thought good you are welcome to. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 89 

If you or your child has '* caught cold/' as we 
call it, bake the feet in a hot oven or put the feet 
in hot water; give some warm drink, wrap up 
warm in bed. Get the blood to circulate in the 
extremities as the blood is driven from the sur- 
face and may congest in the lungs. 

If illness results from the kidneys or some inter- 
nal organ, or even from lagrippe, we should keep 
in a warm room for several days. I think if we 
would stay in a warm room for three days when 
we first feel we are taking cold we would get rid 
of our colds and there is no end to the trouble 
that we say started from a bad cold. 



CATAREH OF THE HEAD 

Catarrh of the head and nose is congestion of 
the mucous lining of the nose. I use a solution 
of oxide of zinc (white powder), peppermint and 
carbolic acid, about 60 drops of carbolic acid, 20 
drops of essence of peppermint and a teaspoonful 
of oxide of zinc in one pint of wat^r. Shake well 
before using. Warm and inject with one-eighth 
ounce hard rubber syringe in the nose night and 



90 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

morning; warm enough in a tin cup over lamp 
or fire. It should be strong enough of carbolic 
acid to smart the mucous membrane of the nose 
just a little. This solution made a little stronger 
is the best I know of for itching skin, ivy poison- 
ing, etc. Mop on with cloth wet in solution once 
an hour as needed to stop itching. 

WOUNDS OF THE SKIN 

The best application I know of for wounds of 
the skin is tannin, a brown powder. If the wound 
is clean and wet with blood, put the tannin pow- 
der on. If there is dirt in wound, cleanse with 
warm water, then put on the powder, tie up, and 
allow to heal without undoing. If undone, use 
more powder each time. The skin has seven 
layers. If only four are torn off there will be 
no scar. If the seven layers are cut through 
there will be a scar when healed. 

For fever of children, put a small thimble full 
of acetanilid in a cup. Fill with hot water, 
sweeten, and give a teaspoonful once an hour. 
For adults, take about one half that amount or 
about five grains every three hours as needed 
for fever, headache and lagrippe. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 91 



A FAIRY TALE OF A LITTLE 
BLACK NOSE 

Little Fay Rue lived with her father and 
mother and two large sisters. Her big sisters 
would tease her and say, 

Little Fay Rue, little Fay Rue, 
Cried a few lines and went ^'boohoo,'' 
Cried a few lines and went ^ ^ mamma, ' * 
Cried a few lines and went ^^papa.'' 
Little Fay, being so much smaller and more 
delicate than her big sisters could only call to 
her mother and father for relief when teased 
too much. Little Fay hoped to be big and stout 
enough some day to pay them back. One day 
when her big sister was blacking her shoes, little 
Fay tried to trip her big sister as she stood on 
one foot. Her big sister, to get even, daubed 
the blacking on little Fay's nose. Fay went 
crying to her mother who tried to wash it off, 
but to her surprise and horror it would not come 
off. Little Fay cried, her mother cried, her father 
scolded, but *to no purpose. The black spot 
•stayed and when Fay went to school they called 



92 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

her * kittle black nose/' Each night Fay would 
come home to her mother crying, ^^Dear mother, 
do get this black spot off my nose.'' Her mother 
called the doctor's help, but to no purpose; the 
spot remained. Her parents spent both time and 
money, still it seemed little Fay was to go 
through the world as *' little black nose." She 
kept to herself as much as possible to and from 
school and at play time to keep from being teased 
about her black nose. An old Mexican lady had 
told her to be a good girl and not cry, and maybe 
a good fairy would come some day and take that 
black spot away and make her the most beautiful 
lady in the world. Fay cherished this in her heart 
and kept it to herself. One morning not long 
after this on her way to school, having passed 
the old Mexican lady's house, a little black pig 
ran in the path ahead of Fay. It seemed to 
know her and to be so tame Fay tried to catch 
it, and grabbed it by the tail. Its tail pulled off 
in her hand. The pig scampered away and Fay 
put the pig's tail in her pocket and thought 
about it and the queer little pig all day. At 
night when she went home she told her mother 
of the queer little pig, how in trying to catch it 
she had pulled off its tail, showing the pig's tail 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 93 

she had in her pocket. Her mother who was 
very neat, also very, very careful concerning lit- 
tle Fay, was much displeased to see her little 
daughter with a pig's tail in her pocket, took it 
from Fay and threw it in the yard on the lawn. 
To her great dismay and the delight of Fay, the 
pig's tail was transformed into the most beau- 
tiful white pony anyone had ever seen. ^*0h! 
mamma,'' cried Fay, ^4t has a black nose." Her 
mamma looked at Fay. *^0h, my darling child, 
the black spot has gone from your nose, and the 
little pony surely has it, that must have been a lit- 
tle fairy pig. I have heard of some such thing." 
That night when Fay's father and two sisters 
came home there was great rejoicing when they 
saw little Fay with the black spot gone from her 
nose and heard the story of the little fairy pig and 
saw the beautiful little white pony with its black 
nose. Next morning when it was time for Fay to 
go to school, there by the door stood the little pony 
with the most beautiful gold mounted saddle and 
bridle on, ready to take Fay to school, as if it 
knew that was its daily task. As Fay rode through 
the streets, all the children ran to see her, and old 
people declared that only in fairyland had such a 
beautiful pony and saddle been seen, which in 



94 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS 

truth was true, for there is where it had come 
from. Fay rode to the old Mexican lady's on 
her way to school and in great joy told her all. 
The old lady said, ^'Fay, be a good girl as you 
have been and when you are through your school, 
the little pig will cross your path again. If you 
should pull oif one of its ears and your mamma 
would throw it on the ground for you, you will 
have the finest house in the world with real 
fairies for servants and be the most beautiful 
lady in all the world. Little Fay is trying to be 
good, has the admiration, love and respect of all 
that know her. Her little pony is the pet of all 
the school children. Fay is learning her lessons 
well, wants to get a good education so when she 
is grown she will know how to talk and entertain 
the fine ladies and gentlemen that will surely 
visit her when she lives in this beautiful mansion. 



Two Irishmen were hunting a cow and came to 
a sign-board that read, '*To Manchester forty 
miles. '* ^'Do you see that on yon board. Patsy? 
'Tis a foine thing I can read — two men chased 
her forty miles. We will go no further tonight, 
bad luck to them.*' 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 95 



MYSELF 

I feel it my duty to myself and those who take 
their time to read my book to know something of 
wiio I am and what advantages I have had and 
how well I have improved my time and oppor- 
tunities in the world. 

I was born in Pennsylvania in 1859. My par- 
ents came to Rock Island County, Illinois, in 1860. 
My father died in the army at LaGrange, Tenn- 
essee in 1863. My chances for schooling were 
not of the best, but I can see now, that I should 
have improved the chance I had much better 
than I did. I never was a very good student, 
when it came to studying books, but at work I 
seemed to be able to do almost anything I tried. 
I w^orked at blacksmithing until I could make a 
full hand sharpening picks and drills for the coal 
miners. I worked at the carpenter trade until 
I could build houses and command full pay. I 
can plaster a house, paint a house, lay brick, 
milk cows, make a hand on a farm, and writing 
verse, singing songs and trying to entertain the 
public is another adventure. 



96 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS 

I spent four years of the best of my life to get 
through a medical school. I practiced medicine 
ten years. 

I am trying to improve my mind ; to help those 
I come in contact with; and feel that my forte is 
gaining from those I see and hear more than 
from books, as I am not the student of books I 
might hope to be. 

Ingersoll said of Shakespeare, **He pumped 
every man dry that he met.'^ I want to see and 
hear our great and near great men and women 
and hope to gain in that way. 

A man I once heard, who had made a study of 
the picture business, claimed that eighty per 
cent, of what we learned came to us through ob- 
servation. I am thankful for good eyesight. 



**Have you anything to say, Pat, before I pass 
sentence on youf said the judge. ^^No, noth- 
ing, * * said Pat. Then I will give you thirty years 
in the penitentiary at hard labor. ^ ' Now, judge, ' ^ 
said Pat, ^'I have something to say. It seems to 
me, judge, you are dom liberal with the other 
man's time.'* 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 97 



CHICAGO'S LIVE MODEL OF AET 

At the Art Institute in Chicago, 

There were works from the masters of old, 
There were paintings and frescoes and statues. 

Of such marvels the half is ne'er told. 

As I sat there all charmed with their beauty, 

A living model more fair, 
More stately, more bending and graceful. 

Walked in and stood facing me there. 

From her eyes shone the real spark of heaven. 
When she met mine there was no disdain. 

Then she passed out among the art beauties. 
And I never will see her again. 

But I know that up in Chicago, 

There is a live model of Art, 
And blessed is the man who is able 

To capture her love and her heart. 

Gathered in from the land of fair women, 

Chicago has surely her share. 
At the Art Institute there are models, 

But the living are even more fair. 



98 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS 



I ADORE THEE, BLESSED SLEEP 

Sleep is nature's great restorer, 

I adore thee, blessed sleep, 
Let me swoon away in slumber. 

Where heaven bends my soul to keep. 

Should I dream of love unanswered, 
Help me claim an honest heart. 

Fill my soul with love's sweet music, 
Let us never, never part. 

Care and strife and disappointment, 

I forget them all with thee. 
Almost wish the day was over, 

That blessed sleep might come to me. 



HARSH WORDS 

For harsh words spoken 
There is no repair. 

As well try to draw the oak back into the acorn, 
As to recall a sentence that has once gone forth. 



OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 99 



THE YANKEE PEDDLER^S 
GRANDSON 

Grandfather peddled, with his pack 

He went from town to town, 
The disposition thus to roam, 

I think was handed down. 

ril go from here, I'll go from there, 

I'll go from all I know, 
For grandfather never stopped. 

Till he left all below. 

And traveled through an unknown land. 

Where mind and spirit blend, 
And sees the beauties of a world. 

They say that has no end. 
Grandfather told his jokes and yarns. 

And I will rhyme my song. 
And sing them where I stop at night. 

And then I'll journey on. 
To leave some joy and hope with friends, 

I meet along the way, 
God bless dear friends who make their homes^ 

My welcome place to stay. 



100 P0E3IS, SONGS AND YARNS 



DEEAD TO HAVE MOTHER KNOW 

Come back again and be with me, 
Faith, hope and love and joy, 

When mother bore my cares for me. 
She said, don't mind, my boy, 

You'll be a great big man some day, 
Then you will make things go. 

The honest look in mother's eyes. 
Assured me that was so. 

But long and anxious years have gone. 
Since mother cheered me thus, 

I cannot doubt her faith and love, 
Deceived were both of us. 

When life's long struggle I am through. 

To heaven I would go. 
But how I failed from mother's hopes, 

I dread to have her know. 



FEB ^3 1913 



015 



